


Something in the Air

by toyhto



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: And with feelings, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Of love and stuff, Sex Pollen, not very dark though, warm feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22860484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: It's a rotten love spell.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 54
Kudos: 1070





	Something in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags! I don't think this story is very dark but it IS a Fuck or Die fic and there's dubious consent, so now you have been warned.
> 
> So, I keep wanting to write dark and/or angsty stuff about these two characters and I always end up writing fluff/humor instead. This story is like, hmm, half-victory, it's dark-ish with dubious consent but these idiots also love each other. You can say hi to me on [tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com)!

There was something in the water. That was what people in the tavern were saying in hushed voices. Jaskier bought himself another ale, drank it happily and sang a few more songs. It was strange that the room was half-empty when he finished singing, but not unimaginably so. Sometimes it just happened that the fine people of a village weren’t accustomed to good music. He took his lute and went upstairs, where he and Geralt were sharing a room.  
  
He washed his face and undressed to his smallclothes, and then he slipped to the bed. Geralt had been gone for the most of the last night and there was no reason to think this night would be an exception. There was a vampire living in a hut not three miles from the village and Jaskier knew dealing with a vampire always took some time. He kind of wished that Geralt would finish the contract tonight, though. The people in the village seemed a little superstitious and Jaskier didn’t exactly like that sort.  
  
Also, there was barely anything for Jaskier to do, since Geralt had insisted Jaskier wasn’t allowed anywhere near to the vampire. Jaskier had pointed out that maybe Geralt thought he looked too delicious, and Geralt had said that if Jaskier didn’t like being left behind for safety, maybe he should just fuck off and find someone else to bother. He knew perfectly well that Jaskier wasn’t going to do that, the bastard. He just didn’t know why.  
  
Jaskier stared at the ceiling for a while before letting his eyes fall shut. He goddamn wished that Geralt didn’t know why Jaskier refused to stop following him around the continent. Not that Jaskier was in love with him or anything, because he wasn’t. He could not be. That would have been absurd. That would have been… actually really sad, and he didn’t want to be a sad person. So, what it really was about was that sometimes he found himself watching Geralt as the other man took off his armor and his clothes and slipped to the bath, and what then? He had eyes, hadn’t he? Anyone who had eyes would have watched Geralt, had there been an opportunity. Anyone who travelled with Geralt and shared a room and, in some occasions, a bed with Geralt would have wondered what it would be like to touch Geralt.  
  
It took him some time to fall asleep, but not because he had been thinking about Geralt.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He woke up in the middle of the night. Geralt was sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off his clothes. His shoulders were hunched, and he didn’t turn to look Jaskier, even though he had to realize Jaskier was awake.  
  
“Did you finish it?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said and took a deep breath. “One more day.”  
  
“What’s taking you so long with it?” Jaskier said and bit his lip. “Foreplay?”  
  
“Shut up,” Geralt said but not unkindly. Then he settled himself on the mattress next to Jaskier. There was enough room in between them that Jaskier couldn’t touch him by an accident, but not enough that it would stop him if he wanted to reach for Geralt. But he never did.  
  
“There was some talk in the tavern today,” he said, “about the water in the village. They think it’s making people sick.”  
  
“Are you sick?” Geralt asked, his voice suddenly heavy.  
  
“No,” Jaskier said quickly, “no, I’m fine. I just… I just wanted to mention it. Small talk, you know.”  
  
Geralt snorted.  
  
“They sounded worried.”  
  
“It’s probably nothing,” Geralt said. “They’ve had enough trouble with the vampire. I’ll sort it out and then we’ll go.”  
  
“Good,” Jaskier said and closed his eyes.  
  
  
**  
  
  
In the morning, he thought there was something funny with his head. It didn’t ache, not exactly, and he didn’t feel numb and heavy like he did if he didn’t get enough sleep. But something was off. He wondered briefly if he had managed to catch something, maybe a flu. That would be uncomfortable. He didn’t want to stay in the village after Geralt had finished the job,but travelling would be a pain in the ass if he really had a flu.  
  
He ignored the feeling and watched Geralt preparing to leave. He asked Geralt to have breakfast with him but Geralt said he didn’t want to linger. The sooner he got rid of the vampire, the sooner he and Jaskier could leave this place. Maybe Geralt didn’t like the village too much, either. But then again, Geralt didn’t like any village. The only place Geralt really seemed to enjoy was in the wilderness when the weather was nice, and the wind was mild, and Jaskier wasn’t talking.  
  
Geralt was already at the door when he turned back and looked Jaskier in the eyes. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said, even though there _was_ this odd feeling in his head. A little like he had a fever, only he was certain he didn’t. “Go on. Go kill your vampire.”  
  
“I’m trying not to kill it,” Geralt said in a disapproving voice.  
  
“Well, not killing it is taking an awfully long time,” Jaskier said and then smiled a little. “Go on. I’ll be fine. But maybe you should pray that I haven’t caught a cold. You know how lovely I get when that happens.”  
  
Geralt grunted and then hovered at the doorway for a second or two before leaving without another word. Jaskier took a deep breath and got back to the bed. If he used all his imagination, he could think that Geralt’s side of the bed was still warm. He had nothing to do and nowhere to go, so he could as well sleep for another hour. Then he would clear his head.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He couldn’t clear his head. He went for a walk but when he came back, his head was still foggy. And he thought people were watching him in a strange way. But when he changed a few words with a young woman hanging up the laundry, she didn’t look him in the eyes and instead put him off in a vague manner. He was a little confused about that. Usually people who didn’t want his company were very articulate about it. But this was a small village in the middle of nowhere and maybe these people just didn’t know how to talk to a well-dressed stranger. He shrugged and went back to the room in the inn, and there he took another nap.  
  
He woke up when it was already dusk. He checked that he was wearing proper clothes and went downstairs for dinner. The light in the candles looked very bright today. He blinked and then stopped at the doorway, because there was something odd in the room and he couldn’t place it. He tried to think about it, but thinking was a little difficult. It almost seemed like people were watching each other like… like prey. He frowned and walked to the counter, asked for mashed potatoes and something to go with it, and then sat down at an empty table and started eating. He wasn’t hungry which was strange, because he didn’t remember having eaten at all today. The potatoes tasted of ash. Not that he had tasted _ash_ , but… And then he heard people talking again.  
  
“Something’s off,” said the man who was older than Jaskier but not exactly bad-looking. He had an odd glint in his eyes, though. “It must be in the water. Because it’s _everyone._ ”  
  
“The old Jael’s daughter,” said the other man at the table, younger than the first one, also not bad-looking, only Jaskier had little difficulties in concentrating on their faces. Their hands were grabbing forks and knives on the table in a manner that was almost nervous. Or frightened. Or… but he couldn’t name it. “I saw the old Jael’s daughter this morning. She was following me down the street.”  
  
The first man blinked. “What do you mean, following?”  
  
“You know what I mean,” the second man said, lowering his voice. “Don’t you see how people look at us? Like they…” And then he stopped talking, and both men turned to look at Jaskier.  
  
Jaskier wanted to drop his gaze but he realized he couldn’t. It was weird. He probably had a fever after all, only at the same time, he felt cold. He took a deep breath and then took a sip of his ale, and found out he was terribly thirsty, and drank some more. And all the while the men at the other table were staring at him as if he was prey.  
  
He went back upstairs to his room soon after, stripped off his clothes and went to bed. He could just as well sleep until Geralt would arrive. He only wished that Geralt would have finally killed the vampire and they could leave tomorrow.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Jaskier?”  
  
He blinked. The room was awfully bright, but he couldn’t see where the light was coming from. He recognized Geralt’s voice, though. “Geralt?”  
  
“What the hell is wrong?” Geralt asked, dropping his gear onto the floor and walking to him with heavy steps. Jaskier realized that he was in the bed. He was also naked and didn’t remember why. Maybe he had been hot when he had gone to sleep. He didn’t feel like he had slept, but he had seen dreams, only he didn’t remember them. There had been hands. And legs. And faces. “Jaskier?” Geralt asked, hovering at the side of the bed.  
  
“I’m fine,” Jaskier said, but his voice was strangely hoarse. Now that his eyes had gotten used to the light, he realized there was nothing but candles in the room. He had left them burning when he had gone to the bed. Well, it was obvious why Geralt was angry. “Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Geralt said, leaning to him and touching his forehead, “unless you have something to be sorry for. God knows that happens often enough. Did you really caught a flu?”  
  
“I don’t know.” He cleared his throat. He was thirsty again. “Water –“  
  
“I’ll get some from downstairs,” Geralt said and frowned at him. “In a minute. Talk to me, Jaskier. How do you feel?”  
  
“Stupid,” he said. “Did you kill the vampire?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath. That was good news. They could leave this place. He could go home and have a bath. He could… well, he didn’t exactly have a home these days. And he didn’t want to leave Geralt. But they could go somewhere else, somewhere were people didn’t stare at Jaskier. “Was it hard?”  
  
“What?” Geralt asked and tugged at Jaskier’s blankets. “Are you naked? Why are you naked?”  
  
“I don’t know. Was it hard? Killing the vampire? I know you didn’t want to do it.”  
  
“I wouldn’t kill anything if I didn’t have to,” Geralt said and took a firm grip of Jaskier’s chin. It was nice. Geralt never touched his face. Geralt could have, though. Jaskier would have let him. Now Geralt was apparently trying to look him in the eyes, so he kept them open and let Geralt stare. Maybe Geralt had forgotten what color his eyes were. Odd, since his eyes were always the same color, unlike Geralt’s. “Jaskier, look at me.”  
  
“I’m looking at you,” he said.  
  
“No, you are not,” Geralt said. “Something’s wrong. What did you eat today?”  
  
“Nothing,” Jaskier said and blinked. Geralt let go of his head and it fell back against the pillow. “No, I ate something. Mashed potatoes. Downstairs. It tasted of ash.”  
  
“Well, that’s not usually good,” Geralt said and stroked a few hairs off Jaskier’s face. “You don’t seem to have a fever, though. That’s good. Last time that happened, you were a fucking nightmare. I’ll go downstairs and get you water to drink and something for myself to eat. Or are you hungry too?”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said and licked his lips, “they said that there’s something in the water. And they stared at me.”  
  
Geralt frowned at him, then turned and walked through the door.  
  
He stared at the ceiling. He was probably ill. He just wished it wasn’t fatal. He was almost sure that he could make better songs if he had ten more years to practice. And the piece he had written just last week, the one about a blind spider that wanted to make love but couldn’t find anyone to do it with, well, that had been a joke and he really didn’t want it to be his last song. It was undignified. It was below his normal standards. It was…  
  
“Shit, shit, shit,” someone said in Geralt’s voice.  
  
Jaskier glanced at the door. Coincidentally, it was Geralt. “Hello –“  
  
Geralt barred the door, walked to Jaskier and gave him a flask of water. Jaskier took it and stared at it.  
  
“Drink,” Geralt said. “It’s not in the water. It’s in the air.”  
  
Jaskier tried to open the flask but he couldn’t get a grip. Geralt took it from his hands and opened it for him, then gave it back. He liked Geralt’s hands a lot.  
  
“I should’ve noticed it,” Geralt said, sounding unhappy, “but I was too busy dealing with the vampire, and people are always a little weird in villages like this one, and… Don’t you remember how to drink?”  
  
“Of course I -,” Jaskier started, but it turned out that he didn’t, in fact, remember how to drink.  
  
“For fuck’s sake,” Geralt said, took the flask from him and then grabbed his chin and helped him to drink. He closed his eyes. Why hadn’t he realized he was so thirsty? He hadn’t probably drunk anything in _days_ … “Jaskier?” Geralt asked, taking the flask from his hands. “It’s empty now. You can let go.”  
  
“Geralt,” he said. It made sense.  
  
“How’re you feeling?” Geralt said and then held Jaskier’s eyelids up one at a time. Jaskier didn’t know why. He could keep his eyes open if Geralt wanted to. Geralt could have asked. But he didn’t exactly mind that Geralt was touching his face, not even if Geralt’s fingertips were a little rough. “Jaskier, tell me. How are you feeling?”  
  
“Fine,” he said and then realized it was a lie. He didn’t lie to Geralt unless he had to. “A little odd.”  
  
“I bet,” Geralt said. “I need more. Are you in pain? Are you cold? Are you hot? How’s your head?”  
  
“Not good,” Jaskier said, blinking. “There’s too much light.”  
  
“It’s just a few candles,” Geralt said, then put his hand on Jaskier’s chest. “Does your head hurt? Or anything else?”  
  
“Not really. I’m just… I think I’m ill.”  
  
“It’s not illness,” Geralt said, his palm heavy on Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier wanted to tell him that there was no need. He wasn’t going to go anywhere. Geralt didn’t need to keep him in place. Geralt could just… just… whatever it was that he wanted of Jaskier. He could keep Jaskier’s eyelids open if he wanted to. Jaskier didn’t mind. “What do you think of me touching you?”  
  
“What?” Jaskier asked. His voice came out hoarse and broken. He was so thirsty. “Water –“  
  
“Well, good,” Geralt said and took his hand away, which wasn’t at all what Jaskier had meant. He wanted to explain but he didn’t remember what he was supposed to say. “Have you talked to anyone?”  
  
“Anyone?”  
  
“Anyone in the village,” Geralt said. “Did you talk to anyone today?”  
  
“I asked for mashed potatoes,” Jaskier said. And there had been a girl. “And there was a girl. I tried… but she didn’t talk to me.”  
  
Geralt seemed worried. Maybe Geralt thought Jaskier had been in love with the girl. But he hadn’t. He wasn’t. “What did you try to do? Jaskier?”  
  
“I tried to talk to her. Small talk. I’ve tried to teach you.”  
  
Geralt sighed. “Small talk. Okay. So, you haven’t… you haven’t touched anyone today, have you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“And no one’s touched you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said, “no, no, they didn’t touch me. They just stared. The men downstairs. Like they wanted to eat me. But they were worried. About something. Something in the water.”  
  
“It’s not in the water,” Geralt said, “I told you. It’s in the air. It’s a love spell.”  
  
Jaskier blinked. His head was hazy and he wasn’t completely sure he was awake, but he thought Geralt had said…  
  
“Well,” Geralt said and grabbed his hand, and then he realized he had reached for Geralt. “It’s a rotten love spell, that’s what it is. I should’ve realized. But I was away too much. And I can’t smell it. I still can’t.”  
  
Jaskier swallowed. “A rotten…” Then he thought about something. Geralt had killed a vampire. That was why they were here. And he was so thirsty. “Geralt?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Am I turning into a vampire?”  
  
Geralt stared at him for a moment, then squeezed his hand. “No, you aren’t turning into a vampire, you goddamn idiot. You’re under a love spell like everyone else in this fucking village. No one’s going to turn into a vampire.”  
  
“What?” Jaskier asked.  
  
“I’m going to find out who did this,” Geralt said, “and I’m going to take care of it. Don’t worry. Are you sure you aren’t in any pain?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said, “I think.”  
  
Geralt grunted and let go of his hand. “Well, I need to go. I have a little time until this… turns bad. I’m going to go and find the person who did this and make them break it off and then we’re going to leave. Stay here.”  
  
Jaskier nodded. He wasn’t going to go anywhere. He was pretty tired, so he thought he might sleep a little.  
  
“I’m going to lock the door from the outside,” Geralt said in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how bad this is going to be. I don’t want you to… doing something you’re going to regret.”  
  
“Okay,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Don’t look at me like that,” Geralt said, which was odd, because Jaskier didn’t know he was looking at Geralt. He couldn’t focus his eyes. “I’m going to come back as soon as I can. And you’ll be safe in here. No one but me can get in. It’s just… you can’t get out, either.”  
  
“Okay,” Jaskier said again.  
  
“I’ll be back,” Geralt said, and then he was gone.  
  
  
**  
  
  
It turned out Jaskier couldn’t sleep, so he stared at the ceiling and thought about things. There were odd shadows on the walls. He had always liked his hands. He was probably going to die from whatever this was. He wished he hadn’t composed the song about the spider but what was done was done. People didn’t like spiders. But Jaskier liked people. Not all but many. And he liked Geralt. He liked Geralt so much. He hoped Geralt wouldn’t leave him until he was dead. And he hoped he could tell his mother about Geralt. But he never knew how to write a letter to her. Everything he could tell her would make her worry. He had always liked his knees, too. His knees, and his hands. And maybe he had a fever, because he was feeling a bit odd. Where was Geralt, anyway?  
  
Geralt didn’t come back. Jaskier tried to think that he would, but he couldn’t keep track on how much time had passed, and when he really thought about it, what was time anyway? And why would have Geralt come back? Geralt had left him in this room to die. He got out of the bed and fell onto the floor, but after he had been there for some time, hours, maybe, he got onto his feet and went to the door. It was locked. He was naked but couldn’t remember why, but he had to get out and see people and talk to them and touch them. Yes, he had to touch someone. Now. Right now. Something was crawling under his skin and it would break him if he didn’t get to touch someone.  
  
He tried to break the door but only hurt his shoulder, and then he sat on the floor some time before he realized there was a window. He could climb down. Or jump. What if he broke a few bones, as long as he would get to touch someone then? He needed that. He walked to the window, but it turned out that Geralt had barred that as well, the sneaky bastard. He didn’t understand why Geralt wanted him to die. He went back to bed and touched himself, but it wasn’t the same, it only made it worse. And then realized someone was at the door.  
  
“Fuck,” Geralt said in a low voice that Jaskier _loved._ He went to Geralt as quickly as he could, only it took him some time because his steps weren’t steady. Geralt had barred the door again but that was alright, because Geralt was here, Geralt was here with him. He could touch Geralt. He could -  
  
Geralt grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him all the way back to the bed, made him sit down and then held him there. He stopped fighting because he was confused.  
  
“Are you in pain?” Geralt asked, squeezing Jaskier’s shoulders.  
  
“No,” he said and tried to think, because Geralt seemed to think it was important. “Yes. I was. I was… I thought I was dead. But…”  
  
“But it passed,” Geralt said but didn’t sound happy. “This is going faster than I thought.”  
  
“What is?” Jaskier asked. He couldn’t reach anything else, so he grabbed Geralt’s wrists, the same that were holding him down. It helped a little. He took a deep breath.  
  
“The love spell,” Geralt said in a low voice. He sounded a lot like he did when he was trying to calm Roach down. “Well, it’s more like… it’s pretty physical. And I found the mage who did it.”  
  
“You did?” That was good. But Jaskier wasn’t surprised. Geralt always found everything in the end.  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said, “she had sliced her own throat. I think the spell was meant for her. To make someone love her. But obviously it didn’t work, or she didn’t get what she wanted. And I don’t know if she meant the spell to get out of hands afterwards or if she forgot about it or if she just didn’t care. That hardly matters.”  
  
“She’s dead?” Jaskier didn’t remember who they were talking about, but he was sorry anyway.  
  
“Yeah. I should’ve killed the vampire the second I saw it. Then we would’ve had time to get out of here.”  
  
“Can’t we go now?” He would follow Geralt anywhere, if only Geralt promised to touch him.  
  
“No, we can’t,” Geralt said, pushing Jaskier down. He hadn’t realized he had tried to stand up. “At least twenty people tried to rip off my clothes when I was out just now. One almost succeeded. The spell is all over the town and it’s powerful. It’s drawing power from the mage’s death. I won’t take you out of this room. And besides –“  
  
Jaskier wriggled under Geralt’s hands. He needed more. If Geralt only let him stand up -  
  
“You’re already under the spell,” Geralt said and shook him a little. It was good. It was better than a steady touch. “We’re just going to have to wait until it wears out. It’d be the same anywhere.”  
  
“Wait?” Jaskier asked. He couldn’t wait. He needed to touch Geralt _now.  
  
_ “Yes,” Geralt said in a firm voice. “I don’t know how long that will take.” He was quiet for a moment. Jaskier thought he could taste his own heartbeat in his mouth. “And I don’t know yet how bad this is going to get. People were… doing all kind of stuff outside. But no one was trying to stop them. So, I don’t know if…” He looked at Jaskier. Jaskier looked at him. God, he was beautiful. “We’ll worry about that later,” he said.  
  
Jaskier wasn’t worried. The only thing he was worried about was why Geralt didn’t let Jaskier touch him.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Geralt. Geralt. _Geralt_ –“  
  
“Stop it,” Geralt said and pulled Jaskier’s wrists. He had both Jaskier’s hands in a tight grip behind Jaskier’s back so that there was almost nothing he could do. But at least his head was clear now. He needed to get his hands free so that he could take off Geralt’s clothes and touch Geralt. That was what he needed to do. He didn’t understand why Geralt was trying to stop him, but then again, he had always known Geralt was a little strange.  
  
He wriggled a little and Geralt yanked at his writs. It hurt.  
  
“Sorry,” Geralt said, “I’m sorry, Jaskier, but can’t you… can’t you just be still?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said. “Let go of me.”  
  
“You’re going to try to touch me,” Geralt said in an odd thin voice, “but you don’t really want that, it’s the spell, and I don’t know how bad this is going to get. Please, for fuck’s sake –“  
  
Jaskier pulled as hard as he could. Geralt didn’t let go of his wrists. He took a deep breath and waited for the pain fade, and then he pulled again. And again. And again.  
  
Geralt let go with a groan. “Fuck, Jaskier, what’re you doing, are you trying to strain your wrists?”  
  
Jaskier turned around on the bed. They were lying next to each other, only Geralt had been holding his wrists behind his back, but not anymore. Good. He licked his lips and pushed his hands against Geralt’s chest, then slid them down and felt Geralt’s cock through the layers of fabric. Geralt caught his wrists again and squeezed but not tight enough to hurt, and not tight enough to stop him.  
  
“Jaskier,” Geralt said in a strained voice. His cock was half-hard. Jaskier shifted closer to him and touched it with both hands. He needed Geralt naked, now. “Jaskier, can’t you fucking _stop?_ ”  
  
“No,” he said.  
  
“Well, I know,” Geralt said, took a deep breath and then climbed out of the bed so quickly Jaskier couldn’t catch him. “I know,” Geralt said, walking away from him. Jaskier got out of the bed and followed him, but Geralt pushed him away and kept on backing way from him. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t know how long it’s going to take until you’re back in your senses.”  
  
“I need to touch you,” Jaskier said and tried to reach Geralt, but Geralt knocked his hands away and slipped away from him again.  
  
“And you’re going to,” Geralt said in a low voice. He sounded a little breathless. “If this goes on for long enough, you’re going to have to, or else you’ll go mad. And I won’t let that happen. And I won’t let you fuck a stranger. Or… I won’t let anyone do that to you. I just…”  
  
“Geralt –“  
  
“Don’t say my name like that.”  
  
Jaskier licked his lips. “Geralt –“  
  
“I hate it,” Geralt said, “I hate it that I can never understand you. You never make sense.”  
  
“You need to touch me,” Jaskier said as steadily he could. He could reason with Geralt. He could make Geralt see it was the only option. “Now. You need to. I need it.”  
  
Geralt took a deep breath and this time didn’t slip away when Jaskier cornered him against the wall. “Fine.”  
  
He blinked and stopped for a second. “Fine?”  
  
Geralt nodded. “You’re too desperate. This has been going on for too long. But… you’re going to have to trust me.”  
  
“I trust you,” Jaskier said and started ripping off Geralt’s shirt.  
  
“I mean, you’re going to have to trust me to take the lead,” Geralt said and stopped his hands. Then he grabbed Jaskier shoulders and pushed him against the wall instead, then held him in place with one hand and took off his shirt with the other. “You’re going to try to listen to me,” Geralt said, “and do what I say. And leave the rest.”  
  
Jaskier placed his palms on Geralt’s stomach.  
  
“We’re going to go back to the bed,” Geralt said, “and then I’m going to hold you. And you can touch my… you can touch my back.”  
  
Jaskier swallowed. He tried to undo the ties on Geralt’s trousers, but Geralt took his hands and settled them onto his shoulders. He took a deep breath. It was good enough for the moment. Geralt had told him to trust him. He remembered that. He _tried_ to. He wrapped his hands loosely around Geralt’s neck and watched as Geralt took off his trousers, then tugged his smallclothes to his ankles and stepped out of them. That was good. Finally Geralt was listening to him. But when he reached for Geralt’s cock with his hand, Geralt pushed his hand away and then walked him to the bed. He went willingly, and Geralt rolled him onto his side and then set himself behind his back, so close to him that he could feel everything, he could feel the way Geralt’s cock was pressing against the back of his thigh. He tried to move but Geralt wrapped his arms around his waist and held him still.  
  
“Geralt,” he said in a small voice.  
  
“I wish this was enough,” Geralt said to his ear. He leaned back until Geralt’s mouth touched his skin, warm and wet. It was lovely. It was so lovely he forgot for a second that he needed _more._ “Are you content?”  
  
He wanted to say yes. He wanted… “No.”  
  
Geralt sighed. “I’m going to let you turn around. But don’t do anything stupid.” Then Geralt let go of him. He rolled onto his other side so that he was facing Geralt, and then he grabbed Geralt’s cock. “Jaskier,” Geralt said and knocked off his hand as if it was nothing. “Put your hands on my back.”  
  
Jaskier didn’t understand why, but he did it anyway. When he had his hands on Geralt’s back instead of Geralt’s cock, Geralt let him wriggle closer and push his face against his throat. _Oh._ He rubbed his face against the stubble there and kissed and maybe bit a little, he wasn’t sure, but Geralt’s hold of him didn’t falter. It was almost good like this. He could breathe. He closed his eyes and breathed in Geralt’s scent until he stopped tasting his heartbeat in his mouth.  
  
“Good,” Geralt said to his forehead. “That’s good. You’re being very good, Jaskier.”  
  
Jaskier wanted to tell him he wasn’t a _dog_ , but he only managed to sigh against Geralt’s throat. And Geralt’s arm pressed him tightly against Geralt’s chest, and his hard dick was squeezed in the crook of Geralt’s thigh, and Geralt was _everywhere,_ and this was okay. He could do what Geralt had asked him. He could trust Geralt.  
  
“Can you sleep?” Geralt asked.  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, but he tried anyway.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He woke up trying to cling onto anything. He was drowning. He was…  
  
He was in Geralt’s arms, naked and so hard it fucking hurt. But Geralt’s arm was a heavy weight on him, preventing him from moving. He bit his lip and then tried to kick Geralt in the groin.  
  
“Fuck,” Geralt said in the low voice that went straight through Jaskier. And he let go. He let go for long enough for Jaskier to get onto him. He climbed on Geralt’s waist and pressed him down against the mattress and took his cock in his hand and -  
  
And Geralt switched their places and pressed Jaskier against the mattress, his face against the pillow, his legs flat on the bed so that he couldn’t get leverage. He tried to roll away but couldn’t, and then he realized he couldn’t breathe.  
  
“Geralt –“  
  
“Fucking hell,” Geralt said and let go of him altogether. He rolled onto his back and tried to breathe, and breathe, and then he reached to stroke Geralt’s bare thigh that was the part of Geralt that he could reach the easiest. “Talk to me, Jaskier. You slept for hours. I thought… How’re you feeling?”  
  
“I need you to fuck me,” he said.  
  
He thought he had been clear about that, but Geralt stared at him like he was out of his mind. “No, you don’t.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“No. It’s the love spell.”  
  
“The what?”  
  
“You’re under a spell,” Geralt said slowly, blinking as Jaskier brushed his fingers higher on his thigh. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”  
  
“You didn’t.”  
  
“Just now. When you couldn’t breathe.”  
  
“No, it was just…” He didn’t know what it was about. But he had trouble breathing now. He licked his lips and tried to breathe and it wasn’t going quite right, but he couldn’t think about it too much. His head was muddy and all he wanted to do was to grab Geralt’s dick, but he couldn’t reach.  
  
“Jaskier?”  
  
“I think…” It was a little weird. Not that he didn’t like Geralt’s dick, but there was so much about Geralt he liked. It was weird that he didn’t seem to be able to think about anything else than… He blinked. “The love spell?”  
  
“Yes. You want to fuck anyone until it wears out.”  
  
“Only you,” Jaskier corrected. His heart was beating in mad rhythm. He wondered if Geralt could hear.  
  
“Yes, because I locked us in this room when this all was just starting,” Geralt said. He sounded unhappy. Jaskier wanted to tell him that it was alright, but he had trouble breathing again. “Can’t you breathe?”  
  
Jaskier shook his head. It was alright, though. He was touching Geralt’s thigh. And he thought that before he had woken up and panicked, Geralt had held him pressed against his chest. It had been perfect. If only he hadn’t woken up -  
  
“Fuck,” Geralt said, stared at him for a few seconds more and then lay down on the bed with him. He blinked and tried to touch Geralt, but he was so tired. And his heart… It was so light. It was like a small bird caught in a cage. It would beat for a while longer and then it would wear itself out. “Jaskier,” Geralt said, holding him by his waist, “I don’t know what’s happening. You look like you’re going to faint.”  
  
“I’m not,” he said. He was, though.  
  
“Tell me what to do,” Geralt said, which was funny, because Geralt always told Jaskier what to do. He smiled. Then he thought about it as well, because Geralt seemed serious enough.  
  
“I need you.”  
  
Geralt took his face in between his hands. “You’re going to hate me for this.”  
  
“No,” he told Geralt. “I could never.”  
  
“You will,” Geralt said, then something shifted in his eyes. “You need me to do what?”  
  
“Fuck me,” Jaskier said.  
  
Geralt stroked his hair off his face. Geralt’s hand was oddly damp, and then Jaskier realized vaguely that it was him and it was sweat. “Are you sure? Are you sure you wouldn’t want me to… something else. I could do it with my hand. Or my mouth. Or you could fuck me.”  
  
“Can’t,” Jaskier said, watching him. He was perfect. “My heart is… a little bit funny.”  
  
Geralt frowned and froze for a moment, and then he got out of the bed so quickly Jaskier had no way to stop him.  
  
Jaskier took a sharp breath. It ached in his lungs.  
  
“Fuck,” Geralt said, “this is the fucking last time I’m getting fond of a human. Your heart… Your fucking heart can’t take a _love spell_.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said and licked his lips. He needed to tell Geralt something, something about his heart. “Geralt, I think –“  
  
“I’m going to fuck you,” Geralt said and came back to bed. “And if you hate me tomorrow, well, I’d rather lose you that way than let you die now.”  
  
 _A love spell._ That explained a lot of things. “You don’t have to, Geralt,” Jaskier said. “I know you don’t want to.”  
  
“Don’t speak,” Geralt said. “You sound like you’re going to get a heart attack. Just be quiet.”  
  
“I need to tell you something.”  
  
“Tell me tomorrow,” Geralt said. He had something in his hands. A jar of oil. Jaskier blinked and watched with muddy brain as Geralt oiled his fingers, then pushed Jaskier’s legs open and sat down in between his knees. “You can tell me tomorrow, when I know that you’re alright. If you still want to tell me anything.”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said. It couldn’t wait. “I love you.”  
  
Geralt’s fingers stopped in the crook of his ass, one cool finger trembling slightly against the hot skin on Jaskier’s entrance. “Not now, Jaskier.”  
  
“It’s been a while,” he said, and his bird heart kept flapping. He didn’t know why he hadn’t realized this sooner. It was obvious. He smiled at Geralt and Geralt didn’t smile back at him, but then again, Geralt had always been bad at smiling. “That’s why I follow you around.”  
  
“You follow me around for songs,” Geralt said in a strained voice, then pushed one finger into Jaskier. “Goddamn, Jaskier, now’s not the time.”  
  
“I’m an accomplished composer,” Jaskier said. “I could write _perfect_ songs about you without ever seeing you.”  
  
“You’re lying,” Geralt said. He had one hand on Jaskier’s thigh, stroking back and forth as if he was trying to calm him down.  
  
Jaskier was a little offended that Geralt didn’t think he was an accomplished composer, but then again, he had always doubted Geralt didn’t have the ear for music.  
  
“Geralt –“  
  
“Stop talking,” Geralt said, pushing another finger in. Jaskier flinched and then took a deep breath, and another. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye,” Geralt said, not looking him in the eyes.  
  
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”  
  
“No,” Geralt said, but his voice was shattering. “It’s just a stupid love spell. And I locked you up so that you’d be safe. I won’t lose you like this.”  
  
“It was very nice of you,” Jaskier said. His voice was so husky it was difficult to make sense of the words, but he knew Geralt had an excellent hearing. “I wouldn’t have wanted to… you always say that I get into trouble when I… put my sausage into a wrong…”  
  
“Goddamn, Jaskier,” Geralt said and crooked his fingers, and Jaskier flinched, only this time for entirely different reason. “Tell me if this is making it better or not. Because I can stop –“  
  
He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. It was good. The sparkle somewhere deep inside of him where Geralt’s fingertips hit him was good. But his heart wasn’t. “Keep going.”  
  
“If you die on me, I’ll fucking kill you.”  
  
“I won’t,” he promised. Anything to keep Geralt’s fingers in him. Only, it was a little sad that Geralt had to touch him this way, had to do it for Jaskier even though he probably didn’t want to. “Do you like me?”  
  
“Of course I fucking like you,” Geralt said. “What’re you talking about? And can you take another finger?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said. “But you don’t like… you don’t want…”  
  
“I don’t want what?” Geralt asked, pushing another finger into him so slowly he thought he would pass out before it was in. But he didn’t. And Geralt’s fingertips brushed against that spot again, and Jaskier clenched around his fingers.  
  
“You don’t want to do this,” Jaskier said. Geralt looked so serious, sitting there in between Jaskier’s knees, his fingers in Jaskier’s ass, his face grim as if he was dealing with a monster of some sort. “I used to think about how we would fuck. But I always thought you would want it. Always. And you didn’t. That’s why I never asked. I wouldn’t have –“  
  
“Stop,” Geralt said, then suddenly pulled all his fingers out. He rested his hand on Jaskier’s stomach and drew a circle with his thumb. “Of course I like you. I want to. Just not… not like this. Don’t talk like that, Jaskier, you sound half-dead.”  
  
“I think you should fuck me now,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Of course I _like_ you,” Geralt said in an unhappy voice but then took a firm grip on Jaskier’s hips and pulled him closer. “Is this okay?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I’m not going to hurt you.”  
  
“That’s fine,” he said and smiled. “I’m very tired, Geralt. My heart’s flapping.” Geralt looked terrified, so he tried to explain more. “Like a bird.”  
  
“I don’t know what do with you,” Geralt said in a hoarse voice. “You break so easily.” And then he held Jaskier in place and pushed his cock into him.  
  
Jaskier closed his eyes.  
  
Yes. A bird. A small bird, small enough to fit in his palms. And a love spell. Wasn’t that fitting, really? It would make a good song. Funny but sad, especially if he died. He didn’t want to, though. He tried to focus on the way Geralt was fucking him, slowly, as if he was a fragile thing, but his thoughts kept slipping to a hazy place in which everything was warm and dark. He was so tired. But it was good, it was good that Geralt held onto him and pushed in so deep he couldn’t have taken more. He wished this would have happened differently, but he was happy it was happening. And breathing wasn’t so difficult anymore. And his heart wasn’t a small bird. It beat in his chest, and he felt warm all over, and it was like magic. Well, it probably was magic. There was a love spell. Geralt had told him about that. And it was terribly unfair that Geralt was only fucking him because of a love spell, wasn’t it, but now that he was breathing again it felt so fucking _good_ he couldn’t feel exactly sorry for either of them. He took a sharp breath. And then another. And then wrapped his fingers around his own cock that felt like it had been hard for _ages_ , and then Geralt hit something deep in him and the warmth sparkled through him in a wave. _  
  
  
  
_**  
  
  
Oh, holy fucking _fuck._  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath and kept his eyes closed. He had a headache and his ass hurt and there was something in between his cheeks that had to be cum. It all would have been fine, but he also had a vague feeling that he had told Geralt something very stupid.  
  
He peered open one eye.  
  
It was the morning. He didn’t know which one, but that hardly mattered. Geralt was still asleep, which was only a small blessing, because it seemed inevitable that Geralt would wake up eventually. Maybe Jaskier could go and hide before that happened. But there was the ache in his head and the ache in his ass and also the tiny detail that what he most wanted was for Geralt to look him in the eyes again. He couldn’t get that if he was hiding.  
  
He sighed and Geralt, the fucking bastard, woke up.  
  
“Jaskier,” Geralt said and then flinched. Jaskier flinched as well. He was going to explain, only he didn’t know how. And then something softened in Geralt’s eyes. “You’re alive.”  
  
“Of course I’m alive,” Jaskier said.  
  
“I thought you were going to die,” Geralt said, staring at him. Geralt had apparently forgotten how to blink. Also, he looked like he was trying to decide if he wanted to be angry at Jaskier or happy to see him alive. Jaskier hoped for the latter but didn’t have much hope. Geralt rarely went for the option that included being happy.  
  
“I wasn’t going to fucking _die,_ ” Jaskier said, even though he remembered that he had been very certain he would, in fact, die. Also, he remembered he had thought he would die if he didn’t get to touch Geralt’s cock _right away_ , and also he had thought his heart was a small bird. The last night clearly hadn’t been one of his best. Expect for the fucking, of course. He thought about it and shifted and then, before he could stop it, he flinched.  
  
“I hurt you,” Geralt said in a grim voice.  
  
“No,” Jaskier said and then took a deep breath. “Just a little. It’s not a problem. Really, Geralt, I was wondering if you remember everything I told you last night.”  
  
“I hurt you,” Geralt said again, raised his hand as if to touch Jaskier and then froze.  
  
“Fine,” Jaskier said and took Geralt’s hand. He really needed to talk about the more important issue. “Do you remember what I told you?”  
  
“You told me a lot of things,” Geralt said, “and you didn’t mean them. Jaskier, I’m sorry that I… I’m sorry I didn’t figure out something was wrong sooner. And that I fucked you.”  
  
“Don’t you dare to say that you’re sorry about that,” Jaskier said and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I told you I love you. You weren’t supposed to know that. _I_ wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that, because, you know, if I had started thinking that I’d be in love with you, it’d come out eventually. I’d probably make a song about it. Something like that. I’m very bad at bottling up my feelings, Geralt. They always end up in my songs.”  
  
Geralt looked a little confused. “What?”  
  
“In metaphors,” Jaskier said, “and stuff like that. It’s not like I would just write songs about myself and call them fiction. Not at all. That’s not what I’m doing.”  
  
“In metaphors?”  
  
“Don’t you know what that means? Well, it’s like when someone says something, but they don’t mean it literally, but more like –“  
  
“No,” Geralt said and squeezed Jaskier’s hand. “You don’t love me.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said slowly, “no, yeah, I definitely love you. Sorry about that.”  
  
“But -,” Geralt cleared his throat, blinking. “ _Why?_ ”  
  
“Why?” Jaskier repeated. “ _Why_ do I love you? Is that what you’re asking?”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said.  
  
Well, goddamn. “I don’t know. For a thousand reasons.”  
  
“Name one.”  
  
Jaskier bit his lip. “Well, when you figured that I was under a love spell, you locked me in the room and stopped me and tried to make it as easy for me as you could. And then when that wasn’t kind of working out, you fucked me in the ass even though you didn’t want to.”  
  
Geralt groaned.  
  
“Listen, Geralt,” Jaskier said, “I’m very sorry that I told you I love you, and I’m sorry you had to, well, stick it to my ass, and I’m very grateful, and I really, really wish we can still be friends.”  
  
“Stop talking,” Geralt said.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Of course I _wanted_ to,” Geralt said and then climbed over Jaskier in the bed. It was nice. It was probably Geralt’s way of communicating that he thought Jaskier was talking too much or something like that, but Jaskier wasn’t going to complain. He pressed the back of his head against the pillow and watched as Geralt hovered over him, looking both confused and angry. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to fuck you? Of course I want to fuck you. But not _like that._ I wanted you to ask for it.”  
  
“I asked for it.”  
  
“You weren’t being yourself.”  
  
“I meant it, though,” Jaskier said and took a deep breath. It was a bit distracting, having Geralt’s face inches above his own. “Geralt?”  
  
“Yes?” Geralt asked in a low angry voice but didn’t back away.  
  
“I really want to get the fuck out of this village,” Jaskier said and put his hand against Geralt’s chest. Geralt didn’t remove his hand, which was definitely a good sign. He licked his lips and played with Geralt’s chest hair, and then he remembered he had been about to say something. “I want to get the fuck out of here, and then when we’re somewhere else, I’m going to tell you that I fucking mean it. I love you. And I hope that you’re either going to keep on being my friend or fuck me again.”  
  
Geralt nodded slowly. “I can do that.”  
  
Jaskier blinked. “Which one?”  
  
“I’ll tell you when we get there.”  
  
Jaskier blinked again. “Where?”  
  
“The fuck out of here,” Geralt said. “You said you wanted to get there.”  
  
Jaskier opened his mouth and closed it, opened and closed it again, and then he cleared his throat. “You fucking asshole.”  
  
“Shut up,” Geralt said and smiled just a little. “Do you want me to kiss you or not?”


End file.
